


if someone held you up at gunpoint at an animal shelter

by shantealeaves



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Dogs, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25780672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shantealeaves/pseuds/shantealeaves
Summary: “If you had to get a dog, what kind of dog would you get?”There’s a smugness in Akira’s voice that comes through quite clearly even over the phone, and it has Goro rolling his eyes even before Akira’s finished his sentence.“I wouldn’t.”(akira gets him a dog anyway.)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 31
Kudos: 188





	if someone held you up at gunpoint at an animal shelter

“If you had to get a dog, what kind of dog would you get?”

There’s a smugness in Akira’s voice that comes through quite clearly even over the phone, and it has Goro rolling his eyes even before Akira’s finished his sentence.

“I wouldn’t,” Goro says curtly. He’s studying at his dining table, halfway through reading a particularly dense legal case that’s starting to give him a headache. He can’t say part of him isn’t grateful for the distraction, but another part of him knows that Akira will be coming over within the hour, and that if he wants to finish this assignment by tomorrow, he’ll need to do it before Akira arrives and inevitably ropes him into conversation and a movie and whatever else.

“Humor me,” Akira says with an audible smirk. Goro never would have thought smirks could be audible, until he began talking to Akira on the phone daily. “Someone’s holding you up at gunpoint in an animal shelter and they’ll shoot if you don’t tell them what kind of dog you want.”

Goro sighs. At some point, he learned that the quickest way to get through Akira’s bizarre and useless hypotheticals is to entertain them.

“Above all else, the dog would have to be elegant and clever. Elegant, meaning it’s aesthetically beautiful, something classy that makes heads turn when I take it on walks around the neighborhood. Clever, as in not some slobbering mess. It needs to have pride and know its value.”

He stops for a second, putting a finger to his chin to consider. “I’m not a huge fan of dogs, though, or pets in general. I can hardly stand the one you leave me with all the time as it is.”

Morgana, who had opted to stay at Goro’s apartment when Akira left that morning and is waiting for him to return, snarls at Goro; he ignores it, as always.

“So if I _were_ to get a dog, it would have to exemplify those features. If it didn’t, I simply wouldn’t tolerate it.”

There’s dead air over the phone for a bit, and Goro finally says, “Ah, Akira?”

Akira makes a noise like he’s been startled awake, then says, “Right, uh. Wouldn’t tolerate it. Cool.” All his smugness and grandiosity is gone, and in fact, he’s starting to sound a bit out of breath. “Sorry, yeah, makes sense.”

Goro raises an eyebrow—he doesn’t usually get out of Akira’s hypotheticals without at least a few rounds of back-and-forth. “Alright, then…”

“Sorry, uh, gotta go—might be back a little late—” There’s a sudden rustling sound, followed by a muttered curse and a harsh growl.

“Akira, where are you?”

“Ah!” Akira’s voice is suddenly a few pitches above normal. “Still at Leblanc, you know, Boss needs extra—”

Suddenly, Morgana bolts up, screeching as he runs to the front door. He scratches at it intensely, tail beating against the ground as he starts screeching, “Akira? Akira!”

Goro opens the door. There’s no one there—until Goro turns to look down the hall, and sees Akira trying to run towards the stairs while holding a huge, writhing mass of dog in his arms.

When Morgana shrieks, Akira turns back around, knowing he’s been caught. He walks ever so slowly back towards Goro’s apartment door, ignoring Morgana’s hisses and Goro’s increasingly bewildered glare.

The dog in Akira’s arms is a huge, shaggy mess of a thing, brown with off-white marks that look more like smudges than spots, and more than a few matts in its fur. Its huge ears are flopping inelegantly over its face as it makes a low whining sound that resembles a slow-boiling kettle more than it does any sort of natural canine sound.

By the time Akira reaches the front door, Goro is blocking the entrance, arms crossed, and looking down at the dog with great, great displeasure.

“Can we come in,” Akira says, still not meeting Goro’s eyes. “He’s kind of heavy.”

Goro wants to slam the door in Akira’s face; as always, he instead lets Akira waltz right in.

“What is this,” Goro says, as soon as Akira’s sitting on the couch. He’s set the dog down on the ground, and it curls up in the small space between his legs and the couch, trying to hide from Goro’s admittedly extremely hostile glare. “Explain, now.”

“Okay, yeah. So. You know how Shiho volunteers at that animal shelter?”

“No,” Goro says, just to be petulant. He actually does remember, because Ann’s mentioned it to him at least a dozen times, but Akira doesn’t need to know that.

“Right,” Akira says, as if Goro had answered in the affirmative. “So she sent Ann a picture of this dog, and Ann sent me that picture, and, well. I thought, I have a pet, and he helps me out a lot, but you don’t have one, right? And I thought a dog might be good for you.”

Goro lets Morgana screech petulantly about not being a cat and certainly not being a _pet_. The dog must hear those sharp mewls and the aggression behind them, because he only cowers tighter behind Akira’s leg. Akira idly puts a hand on his back and rubs gently, wary eyes still on Akechi all the while.

Finally, Morgana’s screeching dies down, and he glares down at the dog from atop the table with his tail flicking back and forth violently. It’s silent save for the swishing of his tale and the soft whimpers of the dog as he tries to curl into an even tighter ball behind Akira.

“That’s the entirety of your reasoning,” Goro finally confirms. “You have a pet. Therefore I need a pet.”

“I...basically, I guess?”

Goro feels like he might have an aneurysm. He takes a deep breath.

“Do you see how many things are wrong with that reasoning? First of all, you absolute imbecile, you might say that _you_ have a pet, because it might be technically the truth that you and said pet live above Leblanc currently—” Goro doesn’t even pause to let Morgana get in his _not a pet_ objections, just speaks even louder over him— “but if you and that pet spend approximately five of every seven nights at my apartment anyway, the concept of sole ownership starts to look a bit hazy! Particularly if you consider the fact that I feed him half the time—I suspect that when it comes to legal ownership of an animal, the courts would rule that if he spends such a large proportion of his time in my apartment, he is, for all intents and purposes, _my_ pet, and therefore your reasoning, if that’s what you would even call it, falls apart from the premises!”

Akira looks like he’s about to open his mouth to say something, so Goro pre-empts him by stomping a foot to punctuate his next point. “Furthermore, I’m assuming, by the smug tone you had when you asked me just a few minutes ago, in a cute little hypothetical on the phone, what sort of dog I would like, you thought you had me all figured out and that _this_ was somehow exactly what I wanted, is that correct?” Goro sneers down at the whimpering puddle of a dog, who’s looking more pathetic by the second. “I’d say you don’t know me at all if you came to the conclusion that I’d want nothing more than this simpering, ugly, idiotic mess of a creature!”

Goro didn’t quite realize he’d been stomping closer with every word, nor that his voice had raised to a harsh shout, until the dog suddenly cuts off his words with a sharp whine—and then runs away to the other side of the apartment to hide under the bed, leaving an acrid smell and a puddle in its wake.

Akira and Goro stare at each other, wide eyed, for a few seconds, not sure what to do. Then Morgana shrieks, “Gross!” and bolts out the window and down the fire escape, leaving them alone. The only sound in the apartment is the smallest, most distressed whimpering coming from the general direction of the bedroom.

Finally, Akira breaks the stare, scrubbing his hand over his face with a wince as he mutters, “Fuck.” He collects himself for a few seconds, then stands up, saying, “I’ll clean this up.”

Akira heads to the kitchen and returns with a whole roll of paper towels, clearly hesitant to use any of Goro’s towels for such a disgusting job, and starts mopping up the edges of the large and ever-expanding puddle of piss in front of his couch. Goro rolls his eyes, and goes to get towels and the mop.

They work in silence for a bit, cleaning up the floor together, before Akira finally says, softly, “I’m sorry, Goro. Really. It was a dumb, impulsive decision. I’ll call Shiho and figure out how to get him out of here by the end of the night.”

Goro doesn’t have much to say to that, instead moving the towels back and forth across the hardwood floor as Akira tries to get the area under the couch.

“He was abused,” Akira continues quietly, “though Shiho didn’t really say how. Just that it left him pretty scared of people, and sometimes acting out like—well, like that, I guess. From fear. But once I spent some time with him in the shelter, he really just wanted to play and cuddle, and I thought…”

It’s extremely obvious what Akira’s trying to say, and what he’s realizing now would be absolutely suicidal to say out loud. _I saw a poor, abused, pathetic dog and thought of you. And I thought you could heal each other and walk off into the sunset together._ The level of pity—for both of them—is utterly disgusting.

“He’s really fucking ugly,” is all Goro grumbles.

Akira gives a lopsided smile. “He kinda is, right? Like, his ears are all dumb and floppy. He’s also really dumb. Shiho tried to get him to do some commands to convince me to take him, but anything harder than ‘sit’ seemed beyond him.”

Goro rolls his eyes, and studiously ensures that a smile doesn’t creep its way onto his face.

Akira is very good at convincing him to do the stupidest things, but this will not be one of them.

When the piss is finally off the floor, Goro says, “So, you’ll get Shiho to take him back to the shelter?”

Akira nods, and he does a very good job trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, I’ll text her right now,” he says, pulling out his phone. After he shoots off a text, he adds, “But I know she and Ann were going to the movies tonight, and the shelter probably doesn’t reopen until the morning. I’ll keep him in Leblanc for the night, though.”

Goro sighs. “Boss hardly tolerates Morgana, and that’s knowing he’s a sentient being who theoretically knows better than to piss all over the floors. I doubt he’ll take very kindly to you bringing this mongrel into the cafe.” When Akira gives him an expectant look, Goro sighs again. “So he can stay here for tonight. But if he makes any more messes, you have to clean them up. And you have to take these towels to the laundry tomorrow.”

Akira beams at him, and Goro just rolls his eyes. “I’m going to make dinner,” Akira says, and Goro turns back to his homework.

Once dinner’s on the stove and simmering, Akira goes into the bedroom, and Goro can only hear him cooing softly, saying, “It’s okay, little guy, you can come out—it’s all going to be okay,” and other soft nonsense.

Finally, it seems to work, because Akira’s coaxed the dog out from under the bed, and has pulled him into his lap on the couch, petting him vigorously and feeding him treats.

Goro tries to stay focused on the case he’s reading, but he’s reread the same sentence a few dozen times and keeps getting distracted by the way Akira and the dog are playing some dumb game where Akira sticks out a hand and the dog excitedly tries to bat at it. The dog’s tongue is hanging out as he pants with excitement, drooping as stupidly as his long, floppy ears do, and it’s a relief, really, when Akira goes to finish off dinner and leaves the dog to curl up in a now-contented ball and fall asleep.

Once dinner’s over and Akira is watching the dog sleep with a dumb smile on his face, Goro tries for conversation. “Does...the dog...have a name?”

“Ah. Yeah,” Akira says. He’s suddenly avoiding Goro’s eyes, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Well, what’s the name?”

“Uh, you know, he’s really stupid. If he can barely handle ‘sit,’ he probably doesn’t respond to his name, either, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Goro barks out a laugh. “I’m sure he responds to his _name._ ”

“No, I don’t think so. Probably we could name him whatever we wanted. Or. Whoever adopts him could.”

“Hm,” Goro says.

“And anyway,” Akira says, and Goro notes that he’s rambling a bit now, something he so rarely does. “Isn’t it kind of dumb to name animals? I mean, we only call Morgana that because he could tell us his name. But this dog has absolutely no say in the name someone gave him. It’s really arbitrary.”

“What’s his name, Akira?” Goro asks bluntly.

The dog bolts awake, upright and tail wagging, looking straight at Goro, then between Goro and Akira.

“...Akira?” Goro tries again, and the dog barks at him happily, giving another tail wag.

Slowly, Goro turns to Akira, and says, “You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

Akira at least has the decency to look ashamed. “I thought it was funny?”

Goro laughs so hard that he doubles over and feels tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. Akira the dog, for his part, is startled by Goro’s sudden outburst, before getting extremely excited and barking loudly, jumping in circles.

By the end of the evening, they’ve tried, for a full futile hour, to teach Akira the dog ‘roll over,’ an effort that only resulted in them going through the entire bag of treats without any new tricks learned. They know they need to take the dog outside to pee, but can’t find the leash and get distracted arguing over where they last saw it, only for the dog to pee on the floor again; ashamed, he runs to hide under the bed again, and it takes half an hour of pleading, this time without the aid of treats, to get him back out. When Akira and Goro finally fall into bed, they’re already half-asleep in exhaustion.

Akira’s definitely asleep, and Goro’s nearly all the way there, when the dog makes the leap up into the bed. He walks all over both of them, jostling Akira out of sleep, before finally settling in the crook between Goro’s legs and Akira’s. He’s a warm, comforting weight, and Akira chuckles before curling closer around Goro and the dog both.

Goro waits a few minutes until he’s sure Akira must be asleep before whispering, “Akira?”

Thankfully, the dog doesn’t budge, but his boyfriend does, grunting an acknowledgment.

“Maybe hold off on telling Shiho you’re taking the dog back,” Goro finally says.

Akira gives Goro a small, sleepy smile, then grabs his phone from the bedside table, unlocks it with his finger, and tosses it to Goro, before promptly falling back asleep, his snores joining the dog’s.

Akira’s phone is open to his text window with Shiho. The entire screen is full of photos: most recently, of Goro peering under the bed, trying to negotiate with the dog for him to come out; before that, Goro laughing mercilessly at the dog who’s just smiling dopily, having received another treat for failing to roll over; picture after picture, as Goro scrolls back up through the chat, until he reaches a brief text conversation.

**Akira:** goro says he wants you to take akira back to the shelter

**Shiho:** Oh no! :( I’m sure there’s something you could do to convince him...

**Akira:** give it six hours or so.

Goro is half a second from throwing the phone at Akira’s face, before he sees how peacefully the dog is sleeping with his head on Akira’s side. Goro, begrudgingly, decides not to disturb them.

One week later, Akira’s been to the best-rated dog groomer on Yelp and looks marginally better; the matts in his fur, she’d said, were easy to take care of, but she couldn’t do much about the blotchiness of his coloring which was, apparently, just how he was born. He’s still ungainly and bumbling, his ears flopping ridiculously with every step he takes.

Nevertheless, Goro pulls the pure leather leash with pride, one hand holding onto Akira and the other onto Human Akira. Morgana darts behind trash cans and down alleys, trying to pretend that he isn’t following Akira on his walks. (“He’s such a stupid animal!” Monal later protests, when accosted about his behavior. “He’ll run into the streets if I don’t keep an eye on him.”)

After reading Shiho’s texts, Goro had realized that he could drive a harder bargain, and told Human Akira so: he’d only be convinced to keep Akira if Human Akira moved in with them permanently to clean up any piss-related accidents.

“Anything for Akira,” Human Akira had said with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> this is me trying to allow myself to write incredibly pointless shit, i hope you feel i have succeeded
> 
> [art by Tuggi!](https://twitter.com/JustTuggi/status/1293994154683510784/photo/1) thank you so much, tuggi, it is utterly adorable.


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